Are you even close to comprehending the enormity of it yet? Lost in Showbiz has been intravenously sedated since Tuesday night, and every time it seems that a transition to orally administered tranquillisers might be manageable, I see another front-page headline reminding me that Adele's Brits acceptance speech was cut off BEFORE SHE COULD THANK HER FANS.

I am only partially comforted by the knowledge that whole swaths of "Britain" – the alternative country you can read about in the newspapers – are apparently still not coping with the vastness of it all.

Two days into the post mortem and it goes without saying that the incident was historically unprecedented in terms of import. Groping for an inadequate analogy, I suppose you'd have to say it was akin to Churchill being allowed to say: "We will fight them on the beaches – " before an announcer cut in apologetically to explain they were crossing to a recording of George Formby singing My Grandad's Flannelette Nightshirt. Or for JFK to begin: "Ask not what your country can do for you –" only for the master of ceremonies at his inauguration to attempt an excruciating local radio-esque link and interrupt him with the words: "… ask what you can do for the Everly Brothers!" Or Demosthenes standing to deliver On the Crown, but being shushed so that the Athenians could enjoy some men pretending to be satyrs with giant phalluses appended to their costumes (which is ancient Greek for Blur).

As far as what we have forfeited goes, Adele's undelivered words must take on the tantalising mystery of Abraham Lincoln's lost speech, which is always held to have been the most electrifying diatribe against slavery.

But the most urgent question since Tuesday night has been: who is to blame? On the cui bono principle you'd be mad not to suggest that the unseen hand was Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad's, but congrats to London's Evening Standard for running a piece about the show's executive producer Suzi Aplin headlined: "The woman behind Adele Brits fiasco." Despite the fact it contained the insistence from a Brits spokesman that "there was no evidence to suggest she was responsible for the decision".

Still, whoever you think should be metaphorically strung up by civilised society, it is a tribute to the team spirit of Brits host James Corden than he has lost precisely no time in telling the world that it was absolutely nothing to do with him. He was merely obeying orders.

As it goes, Lost in Showbiz quite understands that Corden felt moved to answer reporters' questions on the night itself, when he explained that he had felt dreadful about having to curtail Adele. But whether the affair required the granting of a subsequent radio address to Five Live's Richard Bacon is a matter of debate. Even more de trop was the lengthy interview on the matter awarded to Thursday's Sun, splashed as "MY HELL OVER YELL AT ADELE".

"I was put in an awful position," agonised Corden – and one has to concede the plight of an awards show host puts so much else into perspective. (I wonder if the reported £50,000 fee offered a crumb of comfort?)

"James revealed he held out as long as possible before cutting her short," explains a profoundly sympathetic Sun, "saying he had first been asked to do so after [Adele] uttered the words: 'Thank you.'"

But let's allow the man himself to speak. "The truth is," James tells the nation, "just after Adele said: 'Thank you,' people were saying: 'You have to go in now.' I said: 'I can't. How can I cut her off?' The whole room was on its feet and they said: 'You've got to do it now.' And then essentially it was just such a surreal moment and everything you can hear in your ear is about five people having an argument, and there's one overriding voice saying: 'James, you have to.' I delayed them for 15 seconds."

Just an everyday tale of music-industry heroism, but I for one am welling up.

As for the glimpse behind the production curtain, the clear implication is that ITV is now being run as a vast Milgram experiment, with presenters constantly tested to determine to what dehumanised lengths they'll go if some voice in their ear instructs them to do something. I now bitterly regret recent criticism of stand-in This Morning anchor Eamonn Holmes, realising that he only asks half-witted misogynistic questions because someone in a white coat is telling him to do so via his earpiece. How far the mad scientists at the network will take this terrifying experiment remains to be seen, but the spectacle of Vernon Kay administering electric shocks to Family Fortunes contestants must be an ever-increasing possibility.

In the meantime, James still has some buck-passing to get off his chest. "I was so upset," he explains, again, "and can understand why Adele was …"

There is much, much more of this, with arguably the most poignant moment the bit where where James is so upset he doesn't even watch Blur, "one of my favourite bands".

Ultimately, the reader is left mourning Corden's relative lack of power at ITV. As he concludes: "I explained to Adele that – if I had my way – we'd push the news for a minute and a half [for what it's worth, the 10 o'clock news ended up starting six minutes late]. "It would have been a wonderful TV moment for Adele to have a real moment in the sun and then Blur come on. It's a shame we're even talking about it."

Isn't it just? And what a week in which to remind the nation of the absolute importance of not compromising awards shows for the sake of infinitely less significant reports from Syria. Do let's hope this stain on all our souls is never allowed to fade.